Beyond the sofa buying expedition with Luna and Neville's daily dance lessons, I didn't see anyone for a few days and I appreciated the quiet as I lost myself in the sorting out the dining room between dealing with the odd Owl from the Ministry.
Perhaps I shouldn't have been surprised that my peace and quiet wouldn't last and it wasn't long before I received an Owl from Draco saying he was visiting the St Eulalia Orphanage on Friday because the children had an inset day from their local school and they always appreciated the extra help on those days. Would I like to join him?
I wasn't going to refuse.
It was a warm July day and it was funny how natural it felt to be dressing that morning in my lightweight combats, a fitted t-shirt, and trainers, much as I'd worn when I was travelling, especially out in Kathmandu, where I'd ended up staying for far longer than anticipated and working for a French NGO out there. It was the only time I'm stopped for any length of time in a city but I'd felt so welcome and so anonymous on my journey into the Himalayas that I couldn't help being drawn in. It was also because my work out there had felt worthwhile and finally gave me a sense of purpose after the war. As a result, that day, it seemed auspicious that it was the right thing to be wearing. Plus, the t-shirt was one of my favourites. One of my travelling companions called Johan had given it to me as a leaving present; it was stone blue and said 'I'm not short, I'm fun sized' across the chest. He said it amused him. That's because Johan was 6'4" to my lanky 5'9". Everyone was short according to Johan.
The St Eulalia Orphanage in Wandsworth, South London, specialised in the 'special problem' of the upbringing, re-socialising, and education of orphaned, neglected, or abandoned Muggleborn children. As we stepped through the doors, I couldn't help being drawn back to Albus Dumbledore's memory that he'd shown me of Tom Riddle. I wondered briefly if it were the same place but remembered otherwise. Riddle's place didn't cater for children with magical abilities. And this was a completely different atmosphere: a home rather than an institution.
From the outside, it just looked like a typical Georgian terraced-house, similar to Grimmauld Place but with less floors and a much larger floorplan because it was double-fronted. The outside had clean white stuccoed walls with neat road-side iron railings and pretty, well-tended window boxes. The only clue that the house was slightly different to it's neighbours was the higher-than-usual security to actually get into the building to safeguard the residents.
Once inside, the house was modern and accommodating and bright. The ground floor had a reception area, a comfortable lounge, a kitchen and dining area, and two small classrooms. The kitchen was a new extension and led out into a pretty garden that had a vegetable patch as well as a good lawn and some swings and a slide. I couldn't help being impressed by what I saw with the whole facility. There was something lively and happy about the home, despite the kids' circumstances as they waited for fostering or their new home. The orphanage was run by carefully checked and monitored support workers. The environment was clean, well provisioned, and loving. It was easy to see the bond between key workers and children who were encouraged to help garden or in the kitchen in such a nurturing way that I couldn't help comparing it with my own upbringing.
I was simply introduced as 'Harry' to the children, though the staff clearly knew who I was. There were only eight children in residence, though the home could take more. In many ways, it was a relief it was so few, in other ways, it was more heart breaking because I wanted to give them all something as I quickly learnt their names and something of their characters during the morning we spent together. It was, I could tell immediately, a great care facility, and in stark contrast to some of my experiences in Kathmandu.
As we took a break before lunch, I enjoyed sitting in the sunshine on a bench in the garden reading a selection of books with a young girl of about seven called Gwendolyn.
Maria, one of the key workers sat down beside me and said, 'I get the impression you've seen this environment before. Most feel overwhelmed the first time they come to a children's home and see all these young souls in need of a home.'
I smiled sadly. 'It's still heart breaking but there's a joy here too. Knowledge that you're providing something better for them. When I was travelling, I was out in Kathmandu for a while. I taught English in one of the orphanages supported by a French NGO, so yes, I've been here before, surrounded by kids needing someone to take hold of their hand and take them to their forever home.'
She looked at me in surprise. 'How did you end up there?'
'When I first left the UK, I went to Lyon, in France. It was purely because my sister-in-law, Fleur, suggested I went and stayed with her family for a bit, to get away. Through her family and the various people I met, and then their contacts, I ended up talking to a company that was like a central volunteer and employment hub to various non-governmental organisations overseas. I knew I'd needed to work while I was away. I didn't need much, just enough to cover food and board, but I didn't want to make a deal of what I was doing. If the British Ministry had been involved, they would have wanted to make something of it and it would have been leaked to the Press and so the cycle would have continued. I just wanted to get away from it all, see something of the world, learn something different to what I'd been brought up with and schooled into. I was, unsurprisingly I suppose, interested in anything that might be related to social and human-rights work on a local scale. But also, environmental too.' I shrugged. It had made sense to me at the time. It still did but it's hard to put into words. 'The company suggested I get a qualification in teaching English as a second language alongside teaching underaged kids about dealing with accidental magic, so I did that through a correspondence course. They sorted out a DBS so I could work with kids too. After that, I set myself a living allowance and worked when money got low or if something took my interest—'
'Harry, Harry,' interrupted Gwendolyn, 'will you read this one?'
She handed me a very tatty and clearly well-read book.
'Green Eggs and Ham?'
'Yes,' she said, 'it's my favourite. You have to do the voices too.'
'What voices?'
'Hand it over, Harry,' said Draco squeezing in next to Gwendolyn and plucking the book out of my unresisting hand.
A young boy called Marlon clambered into his lap and twisted round so he could look at the pictures as Draco opened the book. And Gwendolyn leant against his arm so she could see too. Another girl called Faye asked to sit on my knee so I lifted her up.
'Anyone else joining us?' called Maria. 'Draco's going to read Green Eggs and Ham.'
We were quickly joined by the remaining five children who sat on the floor, cross-legged, watching him with anticipation. I had a feeling this wasn't the first time Draco had read the story.
'Green Eggs and Ham. By Dr Seuss,' Draco announced seriously before turning to the first page. He paused with a very serious face, running a finger slowly down the crease between the dog-eared open pages.
'My favourite,' repeated Gwendolyn in a whisper to me.
I raised an eyebrow as he enunciated very clearly, 'I... am Sam...'
He turned the page slowly, paused, and said, 'IamSam' quickly.
He turned the next page and spoke very slowly, 'Sam. I. am.'
I tried not to show my amusement at the very serious performance happening in front of me.
He turned the page again and said in a different, rather haughty drawling voice that sounded remarkably like his twelve-year-old self sneering about Mudbloods, 'That Sam-I-am! That Sam-I-am! I do not like that Sam-I-am!'
It was a performance worthy of the stage as he turned the next page. And this clearly wasn't his debut act.
'Do you like green eggs and ham?' he asked quizzically in his first voice, questioning one of the boys sitting on the grass directly.
The children were hooked, captivated as he held a finger up and waggled it as he said in his haughty voice again. 'I do not like them, Sam-I-am. I do not like green eggs and ham.'
Draco turned the page, paused again, and then said questioningly, 'would you like them here...' he prodded Marlon's tummy with a sharp finger, 'or there...? he prodded Faye's knee.
Faye giggled and nestled against me with her thumb in her mouth and her head on my shoulder.
Draco sighed heavily and said emphatically in his posh drawling voice, 'I would not like them here or there. I would not like them anywhere. I do not like green eggs and ham. I do not like them, Sam-I-am.'
The performance was eccentric and enchanting, with the responses to Sam-I-am becoming longer and more emphasised but none of us moved as Draco read the rhyming nonsense. Eventually Sam-I-am stopped and said insistently, 'you do not like them. So you say. Try them! Try them! And you may. Try them and you may, I say.'
Draco paused and looked at all the children individually before he shook his head sadly and said in an exasperated drawl, 'Sam! If you will let me be, I will try them. You will see.'
He turned the page slowly as a sea of faces watched him, waiting patiently. Draco grimaced and lifted a hand as if holding a fork with his little finger sticking out. He looked at it in disgust. He mimed taking a bite of the imaginary morsel and chewing slowly, a look off distaste on his face. He looked horribly like his father.
Suddenly he grinned joyfully. And it was so unexpected that he took my breath away. I had never seen Draco aristocratic face transformed into such a display of beauty.
'Sam!' Draco exclaimed happily. 'I like green eggs and ham! I do! I like them, Sam-I-am! And I would eat them in a boat. And I would eat them with a goat. And I will eat them in the rain. And in the dark. And on a train. And in a car. And in a tree. They are so good, so good, you see!' He read excitedly. 'So...' he said emphatically, 'I will eat them in a box. And I will eat them with a fox. And I will eat them in a house. And I will eat them with a mouse. And I will eat them here... and there.' he poked Marlon and Faye again, who both squealed with delight. 'I will eat them ANYWHERE! I do so like green eggs and ham! Thank you! Thank you, Sam-I-am!'
It made me smile and I thought, one day he'll make a wonderful father as the children clapped happily at his dramatics.
'He gets better each time,' said Gwendolyn with the most contented grin on her young face.
'And that, boys and girls,' he said with a wink as he closed the book, 'is the true, life story of me and Harry growing up together at school.'
I raised an eyebrow but Maria was telling the children that it was time for lunch and shushing them all to calm them and encouraging them to all go in and wash their hands and help lay the table in the kitchen.
'What does that mean?' I said to Draco, caught off guard by his comment.
'It's a story about overcoming extreme prejudice, Harry,' he said seriously, seeming to be far away in his thoughts. The beautiful smile fallen away. He sat back in the sunshine and briefly closing his eyes. Although he opened them again, he didn't look at me, instead staring unseeingly at the bamboo plants creating a foliage wall in the garden. 'It starts off with him sitting, immobile, in his home. Enclosed and shut off from the world. And he doesn't know whether or not he likes green eggs and ham. Maybe he simply he assumes he doesn't like them. Maybe he's been told he can't like them. Maybe there are a thousand reasons as to why he believes he doesn't like green eggs and ham. The point is, it's what he's conditioned to believe because who would eat green eggs and ham – it sounds so unnatural? So, he refuses to budge from his viewpoint, no matter what. No matter how persuasive Sam-I-am is trying to be. Then, finally... eventually... he gives in and finally tries them. And his eyes are opened to a brighter world: a place full of amazing experiences, fascinating places he might see, a world filled with the true friends he could make. And it's not too late, he just needed someone to show him the truth. Do you see, Harry?'
He looked at me then and there was regret so deep in his grey eyes that it made my heart clench.
He got up and followed Maria and the children into the kitchen but I stayed where I was, in the sunshine. Thinking about Draco and Green Eggs and Ham and feeling remarkably content with the world.
After a while, Gwendolyn came and sat beside me again.
'You didn't have lunch with us,' she said.
'No... no... I wasn't feeling very hungry.'
'Maria says we have to eat a healthy lunch otherwise we run out of energy for our lessons in the afternoon.'
'She's very right,' I smiled. 'it was a bit silly of me but I did have a huge breakfast.'
'Draco made me bring you an apple and a lump of cheese.' The cheese was carefully wrapped in a napkin and handed to me with utmost sincerity.
I snorted softly. 'Thank you,' I said as she handed the bright green Granny Smith over. It looked like a perfect specimen and it made me think of Draco at school in third year, always with his shiny green apples and cheeky smiles as he bit into them. No doubt after some teasing comment.
'He likes you and wants to look after you,' she said.
'Yeah,' I said, not believing her analysis of the situation. 'It's good that we're friends now. Before, we never got on but now we do and it's good.'
'Did you fight? My brother Harrison and his friend Rex fight all the time but they're also really good friends. It's so confusing and silly.'
'Yeah, we fought badly. It makes me sad to think back on those days.'
'You mustn't be sad, boys fight all the time and it doesn't seem to ever mean anything really.'
'Sometimes it means everything at the time. Even if it doesn't later.' I sighed heavily, wishing things had been different. Those conditioned prejudices that Draco had talked about, on both sides.
'Harrison says you're not just Harry but Harry Potter and you saved the world from the bad wizard who killed our parents. That you killed that bad wizard.'
Suddenly, I felt like I couldn't breathe. I don't know why I hadn't expected it all to come back to Voldemort when it should make so much sense that some of the children would be here because of the war.
I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder and I didn't need to turn my head to know who it was.
'Is it true?' Gwendolyn asked.
'Yeah...' I wheezed out.
'And he's not coming back?'
'No, never,' I said, steadying my voice.
'He came back before.'
'He's not coming back again. I can guarantee it.'
'What's "guarantee"?' she said carefully.
'A promise that can't be broken. A proper promise because it's the truth. I had to make sure he couldn't come back ever again and I did.'
'Have you still got the scar on your forehead?'
'Yes,' I said quietly.
'Can I see?'
I lifted the mess of hair that flopped over my forehead, hiding my unique and so recognisable scar.
'Oh,' Gwendolyn said, turning to look at it carefully. She scrambled up onto her knees on the bench, then she reached up and touched it very gravely, following the zigzag line of the lightning bolt. 'You can't feel it...' she said. 'I thought you'd be able to feel it.'
'No,' I said quietly, quite frozen by events and the boldness of a child doing something do one ever did.
'Thank you,' she said quietly and she threw her arms around my neck and gave me a kiss on the cheek.
'What was that for?' I asked as she hugged me tightly. I patted her on the back as I felt Draco squeeze my shoulder gently.
'It means I can tell Harrison it is you and tell him the bad wizard really won't be coming back for me and Harrison. Now I can truthfully tell him it's okay to sleep at night now and that the nightmares no longer matter and he can tell them to go away.' She slipped off the bench and disappeared off to find her brother before the bell went for afternoon classes.
'Eat your lunch, Harry,' Draco said, sitting beside me. 'We've been invited to join a class this afternoon. They're doing a practical lesson in controlling accidental magic.'
I wondered if Maria had changed the timetable since our conversation that morning but I still smiled because I knew it was something could help with.
Maria did, indeed, ask if I could take the class and when I asked what they'd been doing and where they were up to, she said it didn't matter, I could just do what I wanted.
So, I asked if we could have the class outside in the garden and when Maria said yes, we moved out there. We all sat in a circle on the grass and the first thing I did was get everyone, including the grownups, to give an example of any accidental magic they'd performed and what sort of mood they were in when it happened. 'For example,' I said, 'once, when I was really scared, I ended up on the roof of my school. And another time, when I was really angry, I made my aunt swell up like a giant balloon. I didn't mean for either accident to happen and I'm sorry about my aunt because it was really scary, even though she was being pretty horrible to me.'
I explained that underage wandless and accidental magic is always related to our emotions and how it becomes more extreme when our emotions are very strong. I told them it was very hard to control but with care, it was possible. I had learnt, along the way, the more hidden magic was from the child; the more accidental magic escalated towards being like an Obscurus as the magic was repressed and then erupted dangerously in an escape. It explained why my childhood accidental magic tended towards more extreme outbursts, whereas, for someone like Draco, who said the most that had happened as a child for him was summoning pencils or books when he was distracted and once he'd fallen out of a tree but conjured a load of soft cushions on the ground so he bounced around instead of breaking any bones, it was because magic was celebrated in his family.
I emphasised that our emotions and wandless magic itself is controllable.
As I sat there, crossed-legged, in front of them, I closed my eyes and relaxed completely, feeling the sun on my face and knowing Draco sat beside me. I felt the happiness in my soul to be in this beautiful garden surrounded by wonderful children and adults who really cared. Then I clenched my fist, gave a little twist of my wrist and unfurled my fingers slowly; as I opened my eyes, out of the petals of every flower in the garden floated a large iridescent bubble, thousands of them filled the air and the children gasped and jumped up to chase them and pop them before they floated out of reach into the sky or burst of their own accord.
I caught Draco looking at me with unreadable eyes.
'Wandless?' he mouthed at me.
I shrugged and said, 'later...'
Maria and her co-worker, Sarah, watched me with that awful look of wonder that I sometimes get, so I reined it in and brought everyone back into the circle.
I made them all lie on their backs in the grass and taught everyone breathing exercises to help even their emotions in times of stress. I knew there was some fidgeting amongst the younger kids but that didn't matter. The key thing was making sure everyone accepted their magic and was at ease with it. I encouraged Maria and Sarah that we shouldn't worry about performing magic in front of the children, showing it was a perfectly normal part of our lives, even if we needed to hide it from the outside world.
***